Two Pilgrims, Leo Tolstoy 1885

Section 15 of From the Tower Window of My Book-House. The Two Pilgrims by Leo N. Tolstoy. Jesus saith unto her, Woman, believe me, the hour cometh, when ye shall neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, worship the Father. But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshipers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth. For the Father seeketh such to worship him. John 4.21.23 Two old men once resolved to go on a pilgrimage to worship God in ancient Jerusalem. One was a rich peasant named Ephim Sheveleth. The other was not so well off, Elisha Bodroff. Ephim was very sedate. He never drank vodka, never smoked tobacco, never took snuff. In all his life he had never used a bad word, and he was always strict and upright. His family was large, two sons and a married grandson, and all lived together. As for himself, he was hale, long-bearded, erect, and though he was nearly seventy, his beard was only beginning to grow gray. Elisha was a little old man, neither rich nor poor. In former times he had gone about doing odd jobs in carpentry, but now as he grew older he began to stay at home and raise bees. One of his sons had gone away to work, the other was at home. Elisha was good-natured and jolly. It is true he sometimes drank vodka, he sometimes took snuff, and he liked to sing songs, but he was a peaceable man and lived on the friendliest terms with his family and neighbors. Now the old men had taken a vow long ago to go to Jerusalem together, but Ephim had never found the leisure. His engagements had never come to an end. As soon as one was through with, another began. First he had to arrange his grandson's marriage, then to wait for his youngest son's return from the army, and then again he planned to build a new outbuilding. One holiday the old men met and were sitting in the sun. "'Well,' said Elisha, "'when shall we set out to fulfill our vow?' Ephim knit his brow. "'We must wait a while,' says he. "'This year it'll come hard for me. I am engaged in putting up this building. You see that'll take till summer. In the summer, God willing, we will go without fail.' "'Seems to me,' said Elisha, "'we ought not to put it off. We ought to go today. It's the very time, spring. The time's right enough, but what about my building? How can I leave that? It's a great responsibility.' "'Ah, friend, we can never get through all we have to do. The other day the woman folk at home were washing and cleaning house, fixing up for Easter. Here's something needed doing, there's something else, and they could not get everything done. So my eldest daughter, who's a sensible woman, says, "'We may be thankful the holiday comes without waiting for us, or however hard we worked, we should never be ready for it.' Ephim grew thoughtful. "'I've spent a lot of money on this building,' he said. "'When we can't start on our journey with empty pockets, we shall want a hundred rupees apiece. And that's no small sum.' Elisha laughed out. "'Come, come, old friend,' says he. "'You are ten times as well off as I, and yet you talk about money. Only say when we are to start. And though I have nothing now, I shall have enough by then.' Ephim also smiled. "'Dear me, where will you get it all from? I can scrape some together at home, and if that's not enough, I'll sell half a score of hives to my neighbor. If they swarm well this year, you'll lose by it. You'll regret it. Regret it? Not I, neighbor. I've never regretted anything in my life except my sins. We took the vow, so let us go. Now seriously, let us go.' So Elisha succeeded in persuading his comrade. At the end of a week, the old men had made their preparations. Ephim had money enough at hand. He took a hundred rupees himself, and left two hundred for his wife. Elisha too got ready. He sold ten hives to his neighbor, and received from him, all told, seventy rupees. The rest of the hundred rupees he scraped together from the members of his household, fairly cleaning them all out. His old woman and his daughter-in-law gave him all their savings. Ephim gave his eldest son definite commands about everything—what meadows to rent out, where to put manure, and how to finish and roof in the outbuilding. He gave anxious thought to everything. He foreordered everything. But Elisha only directed his old woman to hive the young swarm of bees he had sold, and given them to his neighbor without trickery. About household affairs, he did not have a word to say. If anything comes up, you'll know what to do when the time comes. You people at home do just as you think best. The old men were now ready. Their wives baked a lot of flat cakes, made them some traveling bags, and cut them new leg wrappers. Then the men put on new boots, took some extra shoes of plaited bark, and set forth. The folks kept them company as far as the common pasture. Elisha set out in good spirits, and as soon as he left the village, he forgot all about his cares. His only thoughts were how to please his companion, how not to say a single churlish word to anyone, and how to go in peace and love to the holy place. He walked along the road, always whispering a prayer or calling to memory some saint's life. And if he met anyone on the road or came to a halting place, he made himself useful and as agreeable as possible, and even said a word in God's service. So he went his way rejoicing. One thing only Elisha could not do. He intended to give up snuff-taking and left his snuff-box at home. But a man on the road gave him some of the stuff, and now and again he dropped behind his companion, so as not to lead him into temptation, and took a pinch. Ephim also got along well. He did nothing wicked and said nothing churlish, but he was not easy in his mind. He could not help always thinking of his household affairs. He kept worrying about what was going on at home. Had he remembered to give his son this order or that, and was his son doing as he had been told? Ephim was almost ready to turn round and go back to see for himself how things were going. Five weeks the old men journeyed, till they came to the land of the Topknots, Little Russia. From the time that they left home, they had been obliged to pay for lodging and meals. But now that they had come among the Topknots, the people began to vie with each other in asking them into their huts. They gave them shelter and fed them and would not take money from them, but even put bread and flat cakes into their bags for them to eat on the journey. Thus the old men traveled nearly seven hundred versts. But when they passed through this province, they came to a place where the harvest had failed. Here the people received them kindly and gave them free lodging at night, but they could no longer feed them without pay. Sometimes the two pilgrims could not even get bread when they offered to pay for it, for there was none to be had. Those who were rich in the district had been ruined. Those who lived in medium style had come down to nothing. But the poor had almost perished in their homes. All winter they had been living on husks and pigweed. One time the old men reached a little river. They sat down, filled their cups with water, ate a little bread, and changed their shoes. As they sat there resting, Mlysha took out his snuff-box. Ephim shook his head at him in reproof. "'Why,' says he, "'don't you throw away that nasty stuff?' Mlysha wrung his hands. "'It is an evil habit. Please God, I may some day overcome it.' Soon they came to a great village. It had grown hot, and Mlysha was ready to drop with fatigue. He wanted to rest and have a drink, but Ephim would not halt. Ephim was the stronger in walking, and it was hard for Mlysha to keep up with him. "'I'd like a drink,' says he. "'All right. Get a drink. I don't want any.' Mlysha stopped. "'Don't wait,' says he. "'I'm only going to run in at this hut for a minute and get a drink. I'll overtake you in a jiffy.' So Ephim proceeded on his way alone, and Mlysha turned back. The hut was small and plastered with mud, black below, whitewashed above. It was in bad condition, and apparently had not been kept up in a long time. In one place the thatch on the roof was quite broken through. Mlysha went into the yard. There on a pile of earth lay a thin, beardless man, in shirt and drawers. Evidently he had leaned down when it was cool, but now the sun beat straight upon him, yet he lay there still and was not asleep. Mlysha shouted and asked him for a drink. The man made no reply. "'Either he's sick or he's ugly,' thought Mlysha, and he went to the door. Inside he heard children crying. He took hold of the ring that served as a door-handle and wrapped with it. "'Hey, masters!' he called. There was no reply. Again he wrapped with his staff and called. No one answered. Mlysha was about to proceed on his way, when, hark! he thought he heard someone groaning behind the door. "'Can some misfortune have befallen these people?' he thought. "'I must look and see.' And Mlysha went into the dwelling-room. To the left he saw a brick oven. In front, against the wall, an icon-stand with a table before it. By the table on a bench sat an old woman with disheveled hair, wearing only a single shirt. She was resting her head on the table, and at her elbow stood an emaciated little boy, pale as wax, with distended belly. He was tugging at her sleeve and screaming at the top of his voice, begging for something. In the hut the air was stifling. Mlysha looked around and saw a woman lying on the floor behind the oven. She lay on her back and did not look up. Only sometimes she moaned. Evidently, she could do nothing for herself, and no one had been attending to her needs. The old woman raised her head. "'What do you want?' says she. "'We ain't got nothing for you.' "'I am a servant of God,' says Mlysha. "'I came to get a drink. Ain't got any. Ain't got nothing to fetch it in. Go away.' Mlysha began to question her. "'Tell me, isn't there any one of you well enough to take care of the woman?' "'No. No one. My son is dying outside, and we are dying in here.' The boy had ceased crying when he saw the stranger, but when the old woman spoke, he began to tug again at her sleeve. "'Bread, Granny, bread!' he screamed. Mlysha was going to ask more questions of the old woman when the peasant came stumbling into the hut. He went along the wall and was going to sit on the bench, but failed off of it and fell into the corner at the threshold. He did not try to get up, but he did manage to speak. One word he speaks, then breaks off, is out of breath, speaks another. "'Starving,' says he. He is dying. Starvation.' He motioned toward the boy and burst into tears. Mlysha shook off his sack from his shoulders, then lifted it to the bench and began to undo it. He took out a loaf of bread, cut off a slice with his knife, and gave it to the man. The peasant would not take it, but pointed to the boy and to the girl crouching behind the oven, as much as to say, "'Give it to them, please.' Mlysha held the bread out to the boy. The boy smelt it, stretched himself up, seized the slice with both hands, and buried his nose in it. Then the little girl came out from behind the oven, staring at the loaf. Mlysha gave her some also, and still another chunk he cut off for the old woman. "'Would you bring some water?' said the old woman. Their mouths are parched. I tried to get some yesterday, or today. I don't remember which. I fell. Couldn't get there. The bucket is where I dropped it, unless someone has stolen it.' Mlysha went and found the bucket, brought water, and gave the people a drink. The children and the old woman ate the bread with the water, but the man would not eat. "'I cannot eat,' he said. All this time the younger woman did not show any signs of consciousness, but continued to toss about. Mlysha went to the village, bought at the shop some millet, salt, flour, butter. He found an axe, split some wood, and made a fire. The little girl began to help him. Then he boiled some soup and gave the starving people a meal. The peasant and the old woman ate only a little, but the girl and boy licked the bowl clean and laid down to sleep, locked in each other's arms. Then the man and the old woman began to relate how all of this had come upon them. "'We weren't even rich before this,' said the peasant, "'but when nothing grew we had to give all we had for food last autumn. Then we had to go begging among our neighbors and kind people. At first they gave to us, but then they sent us away because they had nothing.' "'Yes, and we were ashamed to beg. We got in debt to everyone. I tried to get work, but there was no work to be had. The old woman and the little girl had to go a long way off begging. Not much was given them. No one had any bread to spare, and so we lived, hoping we'd get on somehow till new crops came. Then people stopped giving at all, and we began to starve. We had nothing to eat but herbs. So my wife became sick, and I haven't had any strength left. "'I was the only one,' says the old woman, who kept up. But without eating I lost my strength too, and the little girl got puny. We tried to send her to the neighbors, but she would not go. She crept into a corner and wouldn't come out. Day before yesterday a neighbor came round and saw that we were starving, but her husband had left her and she hadn't anything to feed her own little children with. So she turned round and went off, and we lay here waiting for death.' Elisha listened to their talk, changed his mind about going to rejoin his companion that day, and spent the night there. In the morning he got up and did the chores as though he were master of the house. He and the old woman kneaded the bread, and he kindled the fire. Then he went with the little girl to the neighbors to get what was needed, for there was nothing at all in the hut. Cooking utensils, clothing and all, had been given for bread. Elisha began to lay in a supply of the most necessary things. Some he made, and some he bought. Thus he spent one day, spent a second, spent also a third. The little boy got better, began to climb up on the bench and caress Elisha, and the little girl became perfectly gay and began to help in all things. She kept running after Elisha, crying, "'Granddad! Dear little Granddaddy!' The old woman also got up and went among the neighbors, and the man began to walk, supporting himself by the wall. Only the wife could not get up. But on the third day, she began to ask for something to eat. "'Well,' thinks Elisha, "'I didn't expect to spend so much time here. Now I'll be going.' On the fourth day, meat-eating was allowed for the first time after the fast. And Elisha thought, "'Come now, I will buy these people something for their feast, and toward evening I will go.' So he went to the village again, bought milk, white flour, lard, and he and the old woman boiled and baked. On this day, the wife also got up and began to creep about. And the peasant shaved, put on a clean shirt—the old woman had washed it out—and went to the village to ask mercy of a rich peasant, to whom his plow-land and meadow were mortgaged. He went to beg the rich peasant to grant him the use of the meadow and field until after the harvest. Towards evening he came back, gloomy and in tears. The rich peasant would not have mercy on him. He said, "'Bring your money.' Again Elisha fell into thought. "'How are they to live now?' thinks he. "'Others will go haymaking, but there will be nothing for these people to mow. Their rye is ripening, but the rich peasant has the use of their field. If I go away, they'll all drift back into the same state I found them in.' Elisha was much troubled by these thoughts. At last he decided not to leave that evening, but to wait until morning. He went into the yard to sleep, said his prayers, and lay down. But he could not sleep. "'I must go,' he kept saying to himself. "'Here I've been spending so much time and money. But I'm sorry for these people. I meant to give them some water and a slice of bread, and just see where it has landed me. Now it's a case of redeeming their meadow and their field. And when that's done, I shall have to buy a cow for the children, and a horse to cart the man's sheaves. Here you are in a pretty pickle, Brother Elisha. You're anchored here, and you don't get off so easy.' He lay and lay, and the cocks were already crowing when he finally fell into a doze. Suddenly something seemed to wake him up. He saw himself, as it were, all dressed to go, with a sack in his staff, and the gate stood ajar so that he could just squeeze through. He was about to pass out, when his sack caught against the fence on one side. He tried to free it, when lo! his leg-band caught on the other side and came undone. He pulled at the sack, and then he saw that it was not caught on the fence. The little girl was holding it and crying, "'Grandad! Dear little Grandad! Bread!' He looked down at his leg, and the little boy was clinging to his leg-wrapper. The old woman and the man were gazing from the window. Elisha woke up and said to himself aloud, "'Tomorrow I will redeem the field and the meadow. I will buy a horse and a cow, and flower enough to last till the new crops come. A man may go across the sea to find Christ and lose Him in his own soul. I must set these people right.'" Early in the morning, Elisha went to the rich peasant and redeemed the rye field and the meadow-land. Then he bought a scythe, brought it back with him, and sent the man out to the field to mow. Hearing that the innkeeper had a horse and cart for sale, he struck a bargain with him and bought them. He also bought a sack of flour, put it in the cart, and started on to see about a cow. But as he jogged along, he overtook two women talking. Elisha made out that they were speaking of him. "'Heavens! That is no ordinary man. He stopped to get a drink, and then he stayed. Just think of all he has done for them. Whatever they needed, he bought. I myself saw him this very day by a nag in a cart of the tavern-keeper. There are not many such men in the world." Elisha understood that they were making much of what he had done, so he did not go on to buy the cow, but turned back and drove with the wheat to the hut. As he reined in at the gate and dismounted from the talaga, everybody in the house saw the horse and was astonished. It came to them that he had bought the horse for them, but they dared not say so. "'Where did you get the nag, Grandpa?' says the man. "'Oh, I bought her,' said Elisha. "'She was going cheap. Put a little grass in the stall for her, please. Yes, and lug in the bag.' The man unharnessed the horse, lugged the bag into the house, and put a lot of grass in the stall. Then everybody went to bed, but Elisha lay down out of doors. When all the folks were asleep, he got up, fastened his boots, put on his caftan, and started on his way after Ephim. By and by it began to grow light. He sat down under a tree, opened his sack, and counted his money. There were only seventeen rupels, twenty kopecks left. "'Well,' thinks he, 'with this I'll never get across the sea, but friend Ephim will get to Jerusalem and set a candle at the shrines in my name. As for me, I shall have to go back home. It looks to me as though I should never fulfill my vow in this life. Thank the Lord the Master is kind. He will have patience.' Elisha got up, lifted his sack upon his shoulders, and started for home. Only he went out of his way to pass around the village, instead of going through it, so that the people may not see him and praise him again for what he had done. And Elisha reached home quickly. In coming, the way had often seemed hard to him, and it had been almost beyond his strength to keep up with Ephim. But going back, God gave him such strength that he walked along gaily, swinging his staff, making his seventy verses a day, and knowing no fatigue. When Elisha returned, the fields had already been harvested. The folks were delighted to see their old man. They began to ask him questions. How and what and why he had left his companion and come home. Elisha only answered, I spent my money on the road and got behind Ephim. May God forgive me. And he handed his old woman his remaining money. Then he inquired about the domestic affairs. Everything was just as it should be. There had been nothing left undone in the farming work, and all were living in peace and harmony. On this very same day, Ephim's people heard that Elisha had returned and came round to ask after their old man. Elisha told them the same thing. Your old man went on sturdily. I meant to catch up with him. But then I spent my money and, as I couldn't go on with what I had, I came back. People wondered how such a sensible man could have done so foolishly, start out, only waste his money, and come home. They wondered and forgot. And Elisha forgot, too. He began to do the chores again, helped his son chop the wood against the winter, threshed the corn with the women, re-thatched the shed, and arranged about the bees. Then he settled himself down for the winter, to plait shoes of bark and chisel out logs for beehives. All that day, while Elisha stopped behind in the sick people's hut, Ephim waited for his companion. He went a little way and sat down. He waited, waited, went to sleep, woke up, still sat there. No companion. He looked around with all his eyes. Already the sun had sunk behind the trees. No Elisha. Perhaps he has passed me, thought Ephim. If I should go back, we might miss each other. I will go on. Without doubt we will meet at our lodging. So he went on to the next village and asked the village policeman to send such and such an old man if he came along to yonder hut, where he intended to lodge. But Elisha did not come. As Ephim went further, he asked everybody if they had seen a little bald old man. No one had. Ephim wondered and went on alone. By and by he met a pilgrim who was going to Jerusalem for the second time. He wore a skull cap and cassock and had very long hair. They got into conversation and went on together. At Odessa they waited thrice twenty-four hours for a ship. Here many pilgrims were waiting from different lands. And again Ephim made inquiries about Elisha. No one had seen him. So Ephim bought his ticket, also some bread and herring for the voyage, and the pilgrims embarked. At evening a wind sprang up, it began to get rough, and the waves dashed over the ship. People were thrown about, women began to scream, and the weaker among the men rushed around trying to find a safe place. Fear fell upon Ephim also, but he did not show it. Exactly where he had sat down on coming aboard near some old men from Tambov, there he kept sitting all night, and all the next day until it cleared off. The vessel stopped at Tsargrad, at Smyrna, at Alexandria, and at last reached happily the city of Jaffa, whence it was seventy versts on foot to Jerusalem. Here all the pilgrims disembarked, and they were panic-stricken again at landing. The ship was high, and they had to jump from the deck down into little boats. The boats rocked so much that one might easily miss them and fall into the water. Two men did get drenched, but at last all were safely landed. They started off on foot, and on the third day after landing, reached Jerusalem. Here they established themselves at the Russian hostelry. After dinner, they went with the pilgrims to visit the holy places. First to the Patriarchal Monastery, where all the pilgrims assembled. The women were sitting in one place, the men in another, and all were bidden to take off their shoes. Then a monk came in with a towel, and began to wash their feet. Ephim stood through vesper and matin services, prayed and placed candles at the shrines. Next morning they visited the cell of Mary of Egypt, and then went on to Abraham's monastery to see the place where Abraham was going to sacrifice his son. They visited the spot where Christ appeared to Mary Magdalene, and also the church of James, the brother of the Lord. The pilgrim showed Ephim all these sites, and always told him just how much money he should give at each place. They returned for dinner to the hostelry, and after dinner, just as they were getting ready to lie down and rest, the pilgrim began to say, Ah! to shake his clothes, to search. I have been robbed of my purse and all my money, he cried. And he mourned and mourned, but there was nothing to be done. Ephim lay down to sleep, but as he did so, temptation fell upon him. He kept thinking. The pilgrim's money was not stolen. He never had any. He told me where to give my money, but he never gave any himself. Yes, and he borrowed a ruple of me. It's all a trick. Then Ephim began to scold himself. What right have I to judge a man? It is a sin. I must not think about it. But still he could not keep his thoughts from condemning the pilgrim. Next morning they got up, and went to early mass in the great church of the resurrection. The pilgrim would not leave Ephim. He stuck tight to him wherever he went. A great crowd of pilgrims were collected in the church. Russians, Greeks, Armenians, Turks, Syrians, and all peoples. A monk led the crowd through the sacred gates, past Turkish guards, to the place where the Savior was taken from the cross and anointed, where the nine great candlesticks now are burning. Here Ephim, too, placed a candle. The monk pointed out everything, and told them everything. Then Ephim was led to the right, up a little flight of steps to Golgotha, where the cross stood. Here he said a prayer, and saw the hole where the earth opened, when it was shaken to its nethermost depths at the crucifixion. He saw, too, the spot where they fastened the hands and feet of Jesus to the cross, the stone on which he sat, when they put upon his head the crown of thorns, the pillar to which they bound him when they scourged him. The monk was going to show the pilgrim something more, but the crowd was in a hurry. They all rushed to the very grotto of the Lord's sepulchre, and Ephim went along with the throng. He was anxious to get rid of the pilgrim, for in his thoughts he was continually judging the man, instead of thinking on holy things. But the pilgrim would not be got rid of, and he went with Ephim to Mass at the Lord's sepulchre. They tried to get a place at the front, but were too late. The people were wedged so closely together that there was no moving either backwards or forwards. Ephim stood looking toward the holy place and praying that it was of no use. Every now and then he must feel whether his purse was still in its place. He was of two minds, wishing to pray and yet thinking, either the pilgrim deceived me, or if he was really robbed, why the same thing might happen to me. Thus Ephim stood, looking toward the chapel where the sepulchre was, with the thirty-six lamps burning beside it. He was peering over the heads of the people, when what a marvel! Just beneath the lamps were the blessed fire-burns, and the very foremost place he saw a little old man in a coarse caftan, with a bald spot over his whole head, for all the world like Elisha Bodroff. It's Elisha, he thinks. Yet no, it can't be. He can't have got here before me. The ship before ours started a week sooner. He could not possibly have caught that, and he was not on our boat, for I saw all the pilgrims. While Ephim was thus reasoning, the little old man bent to pray. As he did so, Ephim recognized him. It was Elisha himself. Ephim was filled with joy, and wondered how Elisha could have got there ahead of him. Well done, Elisha, he thought. See how he has pushed ahead. He must have come across someone who showed him how to do it. Let me just meet him when he goes out. I'll get rid of this pilgrim fellow and go with him. Perhaps he will get me a front place, too. All the time Ephim kept his eyes on Elisha, so as not to miss him. Now the Mass was over, and the crowd reeled and struggled in trying to make their way out. Ephim pushed to one side. Again the fear came upon him that someone would steal his money. Clutching his purse, he managed to break through the crowd into an open space. But now he had lost Elisha. In the cloisters of the church he saw many people. Some were eating and drinking. Some were sleeping and reading. But there was no Elisha anywhere. Ephim returned to the hostelry, and this evening the pilgrim failed to return. He disappeared and never gave back Ephim's ruble. So Ephim was left alone. On the next day, Ephim went once more to the Lord's sepulcher. He wanted to get to the front as before, but was crowded back so he could only stand by a pillar and pray. But there again, under the lamps, in the very foremost place by the sepulcher of the Lord, stood Elisha, with his arms spread out like a priest at the altar, and the light shining all over his bald head. Well, thinks Ephim, now I'll surely not miss him. He tried to push through the front, but when he succeeded, no Elisha. Vanished, just as before. On the third day, Ephim looked again toward the Lord's sepulcher. Again he saw Elisha in the same place with the same aspect, his arms outspread, and the light shining all over his head. This time, thinks Ephim, I'll go and stand at the door. There we can't miss each other. Half a day he stood by the door. All the people passed out, but there was no Elisha among them. Ephim spent six weeks in Jerusalem and visited everything. He went to Bethlehem too, and Bethany, and the Jordan. He had a seal stamped on a new shirt, the Lord's sepulcher, that he might be buried in it. And he took a bottle of water from the Jordan, and some holy earth, and bought candles that had been lit at the sacred flame. So he spent all his money, except enough to get him home, and then started out on the return journey. Ephim walked alone over the same road as before, but again the worryment came over him as to how the folks at home had got on without him, and whether his son had conducted affairs, so there would be no loss. Thus Ephim reached that place where a year before he had parted from Elisha. It was impossible to recognize the people. Before they were so wretchedly poor. Now there had been good crops, and all lived in sufficiency and comfort. At evening, Ephim reached the very village where a year before Elisha had stopped. He had hardly entered it, when a little girl in a white smock sprang out from behind a hut. Grandpa! Dear Grandpa! Come into our house! Ephim was inclined to go on, but the little girl would not allow him. She seized him by the skirts, pulled him along into the hut, and laughed. From the doorstep, a woman with a little boy also beckoned to him, Come in, please, Grandsire, and take supper, and spend the night with us. Ephim went in. I might as well ask about Elisha, he thought. No doubt, this is the very hut where he stopped to get a drink. The woman took Ephim's sack, gave him a chance to wash, and set him at the table. She put on milk, curd cakes, and porridge. Ephim thanked and praised her for being so hospitable to pilgrims. The woman shook her head. We have good reason to be hospitable to pilgrims, she said, for we owe our lives to a pilgrim. Last summer things went so badly with us that we were all starving, had nothing to eat, and should have died. But that God sent such a nice old man to help us. He came in just at noon to get a drink. But when he saw us, he was sorry for us, and stayed on with us. He gave us something to drink, fed us, and put us on our legs. And beside all that, he bought back our land, and gave us a horse and talaga. Here the old woman came into the hut, and interrupted the younger one. And we don't know at all, says she, whether it was a man or an angel of God. He loved us all, and pitied us all, and went away without even telling us his name. At nightfall came the peasant himself on horseback. He also began to tell about Elisha, and what he had done for them. If he had not come to us, says he, we should all have died in our sins. We were perishing in despair. We murmured against God, and against men. But he set us on our feet. Through him we learned to know God, and came to believe that there was good in man. Christ bless him! Before we lived like cattle, he made us men. The people fed Ephim, and fixed him up for the night. Then they themselves lay down to sleep. But Ephim was unable to sleep. He kept thinking how he had seen Elisha and Jerusalem three times in the foremost place. That's how he got there before me, he thinks. God may or may not have accepted my pilgrimage, but he has certainly accepted his. Next morning Ephim bade farewell to the people. They put some patties in his sack, and he continued his journey. Ephim had been away just a year, and it was spring when he reached home again. His son was not at the house. He had gone to the tavern. When he returned he was tipsy. Ephim began to question him. He found that the young man had gotten to bad ways during his absence, had spent all the money foolishly, and neglected everything. At this the father grew angry, and beat his son. In the morning he went to the village elder to complain of the lad. On the way he passed Elisha's house. Elisha's old woman was standing on the doorstep. How's your health, neighbor? says she. Did you have a good pilgrimage? Glory to God, says Ephim. Yes, I have been to Jerusalem. I lost your old man, but I hear he got home safely. Yes, he got back. The old woman began to prattle. And glad enough we were that God brought him. It was lonesome for us without him. And how glad our lad was to see him. Without father, says he, is like being without sunlight. We love him and we missed him so. Well, is he at home now? Yes, friend, he's with the bees, hiving the new swarms. Such splendid swarms, he says, God never gave us before. Ephim passed on to the apiary where Elisha was. There he stood in his great caftan, under a little birch tree, without a face net or gloves to protect him. Looking upwards, his arms stretched out, and his bald head shining. Just as Ephim had seen him in Jerusalem, at the Lord's sepulcher, and just as the sacred fire had burned above him in Jerusalem, so now the sunlight came sifting down through the birch tree, and shone all over his head. The golden bees flew about like a halo, and never stung him. Elisha's old woman called out to her husband. Our neighbors come. Elisha was delighted, and came to meet his comrade, calmly detaching the bees from his beard. How are you, comrade, he cries. Did you have a good journey? Did you get to Jerusalem safely? Ephim was silent for a moment. Then he answered, My feet walk there, and I have brought you back some water from the river Jordan. But whether the Lord accepted my pilgrimage, whether it was my soul or another's that has been there more truly, That is God's affair, comrade, God's affair, interrupted Elisha. On my way back, I stopped also at the hut, were you? Elisha became confused. He hastened to repeat, That is God's affair, comrade, God's affair. Come into the house, and I will give you some honey. So Elisha changed the conversation. Ephim sighed, and did not again remind Elisha of the people in the hut, nor speak of how he had seen him in Jerusalem. But he now understood that the best way to serve God is to have a heart full of love, and to do good deeds. End of section 15 Recording by Angie Young